MoonlitRomance
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Summary
Romeo, a name that could have only been given in the rapture of purest affection, had certainly lived up to that vision. Every piece of him was a stroke of art waiting to be beheld—the greatest work of an artist born far too soon for their craft and recognized far too late after their passing. He held smooth skin curtained by golden-blond hair, which sunlight failed to rival, and the loveliest gradient of verdant forests and clear skies for irises.
You told yourself far too many times that it would be impossible to separate the man and the orphan boy who would accidentally strike himself with a wooden sword and chew at the debris under his nails. Just like all lies, it simmered into truth when you were swept away from Carlo’s coming-of-age party and those blush-colored lips met yours, flavored with expensive wine and confessions of adoration.
“Still like a brother?”